Maybe You Don’t Need a Date. Maybe You Need a Bucket List.

You ever hit a point where dating doesn’t even sound hard anymore—it just sounds boring?

The tiny talk. The texting treadmill. The guy who thinks “how’s your day going?” is flirting. The profile that’s mostly fish, gym pics, and vague threats like “no drama, no baggage.”

Yeah. That.

There’s this pressure, especially if you’re divorced or newly single, to prove you’re still open. Still trying. Still “working on yourself.”

But what if working on yourself doesn’t mean more swiping?
What if it looks like clay, dogs, hiking boots, and one weird little trail sign?

Today’s newsletter includes:

• One tip I live by when dating becomes a chore

• The full chapter from Spiders featuring my favorite low-key unhinged ideas

• A prompt to help you make your own version of joy (no matching required)

💡 You Don’t Need to Date to Be “Doing the Work”

Dating can be depleting. It’s not always empowering or expansive or “growth mindset.”

Sometimes it’s just... another thing you’re supposed to optimize.

So here’s the reminder I needed (and maybe you do too):
You can take a break. You can try something else. You can reroute without losing momentum.

There are other ways to connect. To stretch. To remember you’re alive.

🔹 A brief inventory of things I tried (or am still considering) when swiping feels like a chore.

At some point, I realized I needed to hit pause—not because I was devastated or hopeless, but because I was bored. Tired of the apps. Tired of the effort. Tired of trying to be "open" when what I really needed was to be offline.

So I made a list. Not of people I wanted to date, but of things I wanted to try. Stuff that might make me feel more alive, more playful, more like myself—even if zero romance came from it.

Here’s what I came up with

Crossed Off the List

1. Pottery Classes.
   You know what’s sexy? Hands covered in clay, shaping something from nothing.
   You know what’s not? Sitting next to Doris, who’s 78, and mutters “pathetic” every time I fail to center my clay.

2. Backpacking.
   I thought maybe I’d meet someone rugged and competent, someone who could build a fire without watching a YouTube tutorial first.
   Instead, men who brag about “going ultralight” often mean emotionally as well.

3. Become a mindfulness meditation teacher.
   I left with a stronger sense of self, an intimate knowledge of my breath, and absolutely no dates.

4. Get a dog.
   I thought Oodle the Poodle might be a great ice breaker.
   Instead she attracted old couples. Not my type.

5. Use LinkedIn as an alternative to Tinder.
   Crossed my mind when I got a connection request that said “Hello beautiful.”
   Deleted his invite. Then briefly considered adding “open to networking… and romance” to my bio.

6. Work.
   A safe bet. An easy distraction. I buried myself in projects, deadlines, and meetings about meetings—so many meetings.
   No time to swipe, no energy to care. Just me, my to-do list, and the comforting illusion that professional success could fill the space where romance was supposed to be.

Still Under Consideration to Try

1. Volunteering with the local high school marching band music boosters.
   Support my daughter, maybe meet a single dad.
   At worst, I learn more than I ever wanted to about uniform maintenance.

2. A podcast.
   If I can’t find love, maybe I can at least monetize the failure.
   Swipe, match, ghost, repeat—welcome to Read Receipts, where I let the audience vote on my replies.

3. #vanlife.
   The dream: a renovated Sprinter, a minimalist wardrobe, endless sunrises over unfamiliar landscapes.
   The concerns: terrifying bathroom logistics, carbon monoxide poisoning, and the mattress situation.

4. Putting a sign on my favorite hiking trail.
   “If you’ve summited this trail, you might be fit enough to summit my emotional walls.”
   Or maybe: “Single. Seeking partner for life’s uphill climbs. Must bring snacks.”
   Or maybe a QR code disguised as a trail map, but actually linking to my dating profile.

5. Write a book.
   Will let you know how that turns out.

✍️ Make Your Not Dating List

Let’s do it. 5 things. No dating agenda. No “maybe I’ll meet someone there” subtext.

Just stuff that makes you curious, calm, or slightly delighted to be alive.

Need ideas? Try these:

• Something you’d do if no one ever found out

• A skill you’ve always wanted (calligraphy? cake decorating?)

• A place you want to go alone

• A thing you gave up when life got busy

• Something weird you saw on TikTok that you secretly want to try

Write them down. Try one. See what happens.

Breaks Are Part of the Journey

We don’t always need to “power through” dating fatigue.

Sometimes, the smartest, healthiest, most soul-preserving move is to step aside. To remember that connection starts with you. And sometimes the most meaningful version of love is just creating a life that feels good—whether someone’s in it or not.

So yeah, maybe I’m not swiping this week.
Maybe I’m sketching out a podcast episode.
Maybe I’m walking my dog.
Maybe I’m buying a ceramic mug instead of trying to throw one under Doris’s judgmental stare.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll print that hiking trail sign.

If you’ve got ideas for your own list—or want to vote for your favorite Still Considering item—hit reply.
I always love hearing what weird joy you’re chasing.

And if you’ve got a friend who needs a break, forward this their way. Tell them the dating apps can wait. The joy can’t.

Blue skies,
Carla